


Standard Issues

by ZaliaChimera



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Asphyxiation, Blindfolds, Bondage, Breathplay, Clothed Sex, Consensual Kink, Established Relationship, M/M, Slapping, Strangulation, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-10
Updated: 2013-01-10
Packaged: 2017-11-24 08:40:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/632534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZaliaChimera/pseuds/ZaliaChimera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coulson always knows just what Clint needs and how to give it to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Standard Issues

**Author's Note:**

> Asphyxiation/strangulation is highly dangerous and can be fatal. Please do not try this yourself.

"You're alright," Coulson says, and it's as much reassurance as it is question. His hand slides easily down the curve of Clint's spine, over sweat-slick skin and each bump of a vertebrae. 

Clint nods, hands clenching where they're bound at the small of his back with leather straps that dig into his skin in that just perfect way that Coulson always manages. They leave marks, scored lines around his wrists that he can't get enough of.

Coulson taps his shoulder, hard enough that he feels it right through. "Words, Clint," he says, the rebuke clear in his voice. He's never hesitant about making his displeasure known and Clint never tries to hide the way it makes him shiver.

"I'm alright, sir," Clint says, arching his back into the touch, encouraging it, licking his lips into a grin when he feels Coulson's hand press down against his shoulder, fingers digging in, the only outward sign of desire. Once it might have bothered him, but it sparks something hot in him to be the only one who can read these little signs from Coulson. 

The gentle stroking resumes, calloused fingers over his shoulder blades, the light scratch of Coulson's suit cuffs against his skin. Coulson's hand slides against his neck, nails scratching lightly at his scalp and a soft moan escapes him. Coulson laughs softly, the sound fleeting and it makes Clint's toes curl. 

The fingers tighten suddenly, twisting into his hair and Coulson drags his head back at a painful angle, forcing his gaze up and holding him there so that Clint can look nowhere but at Coulson's face. His mouth opens a little, enough for Coulson to slide a finger past his lips. Clint curls his tongue around it and it presses further in until it hits the back of his throat, making him choke and swallow convulsively around it until Coulson withdraws it. There's a slight smile on Coulson's lips, something predatory about it that makes Clint's breath catch in his throat.

"Good," Coulson says quietly, leaning down to place a kiss on Clint's lips. There's something clinical about it, impersonal, and _fuck_ if it doesn't make Clint harder than anything else, makes his cock twitch and heat curl in his stomach.

Coulson steps away, hand falling away from Clint's hair and Clint drops his head, trying to relieve some of the strain on his shoulders. He tilts his head, watching Coulson as he unfastens his tie, pulling it off with a soft hiss of silk on silk. Clint swallows, throat bobbing as he watches, and he shifts on the bed to try to get some kind of friction against his aching cock.

A small smile plays across Coulson's lips as he runs the tie through his hands, between his fingers. Clint's seen what he can do with those hands, _experienced_ what he can do with them and his mouth goes dry.

"Head up," Coulson says quietly, he never needs to be loud, and Clint obeys, holding his head up again, never mind the ache. He's hurt worse for longer and for less cause and Coulson is _always_ a good cause. The best of causes, especially when he moves up close enough that Clint can rub his cheek against the rich wool of Coulson's suit jacket, let it brush against his lips and flick his tongue out to wrap around one of the buttons. 

Coulson's smile widens. "Greedy," he says as he wraps the tie around Clint's eyes, pulling it tight and tying it efficiently. The silk is smooth against his eyelids, and he swears he can feel every ridge of Coulson's thumb as it smooths along his jaw, rubbing against his two day old stubble.

"I should leave you here, like this," Coulson says, voice steady and calm like he's ordering coffee not talking about leaving Clint bound and naked and hard as sin on his bed. "It would be a nice thing to come home to after a late night. Probably nicer for me. Do you think you'd be begging by then, Barton?"

There's no wasted speech, no filthy words and it makes him shiver all the same. "I'm close to begging now, sir," he admits, voice sounding husky and strained and they've barely done anything yet. Coulson always knows just which buttons to push, how to tie him just right and drip that gentle poison into his ear so he's needy and hard with barely a touch.

"I see," Coulson replies coolly and that just makes him shiver more, anticipation a dark curl through him. "The bell," he says, voice gentling for just a moment, and Clint uncurls his hand, letting the bell fall from his hand. It rings as it falls and hits the ground.

Coulson pats his shoulder approvingly and presses the bell back into his hand, wrapping Clint's fingers around it securely. Then Clint is left alone again, the room silent except for his breathing. Sightless, it feels like a lot longer than the minute or so it must be before he hears Coulson move again. It's a small sound, the slow hiss of a belt being removed. Clint gives a low groan, body tensing at the sound, wanting it so fucking much.

He gasps when the cool leather wraps around his neck, contrasting with the warmth of Coulson's hands where they brush his skin. He isn't gentle. Isn't rough either, but he's not gentle as he tightens the belt around his throat, sliding it through the buckle until it's snug. He just lets it rest there for a moment, a tight weight against his throat and he can feel it tighten with every swallow, every beat of his heart, it feels like.

Coulson's hand is a reassuring presence against his shoulder as he begins to tighten it, a steady pull which slowly drags the leather through the buckle. It closes around his neck to snugness, then begins to pinch and squeeze. Clint's breath comes sharp and hard and laboured and the belt is gone suddenly, Coulson's finger sliding in between the leather and flesh, letting him breathe again.

"Good?" Coulson asks. The hand not wrapped around the belt curls possessively over the curve of Clint's ass, between his thighs to press lightly against his balls. It drags a low groan from Clint and he leans forward, putting pressure on his neck, forcing the belt a little tighter.

The sting of Coulson's hand slapping his balls is sharp and hot and he gives a startled cry, more surprise than real pain as the warmth radiates across the sensitive flesh. Coulson loosens the belt and holds it at the front, making it impossible for Clint to try it again. "Is it good?" Coulson asks again, as though all he really cares about is Clint's answer and not how hard his cock is between his legs. 

"So fucking good," Clint says, a rasp to his voice. He spreads his legs a little, bracing himself more securely, ready and waiting for the next tug.

Coulson, the bastard, makes him wait for it. Of course he does. Clint thinks he gets off on making Clint wait more than he ever does on fucking his mouth or his ass. He counts his breaths, so focused it's like nothing else exists. Nothing until the tug, sharp this time, and sudden, cuts it off and he chokes, mouth wide open, back arching and  
hips jerking and it's so good, so fucking _good_ , feels lighter than he has in weeks, in _years_ , the blackness seeping into the edges of his mind and... and...

Another sharp slap to his ass and he comes, high and bright, oxygen rushing back into his lungs and he falls forward onto the bed, sobbing it into the covers as he sucks in a gasp of air. He's still floating on sensation as Coulson slides the belt away, unties his arms and eases them down, pain flaring through them and settling into a low throbbing ache.

"It's alright. I have you." Nothing is more comforting than Coulson's voice when he talks like that, be it in the bedroom or in a war zone. He tugs Clint up and into his lap, massaging the feeling back into his arms. His suit is warm and soft and lovely against Clint's skin. "My good boy," Coulson murmurs, fingers carding through his hair gently. "My perfect boy."

Clint nuzzles against his hip for a moment before rolling over to look up at him, grinning tiredly, his hair mussed and sweat on his face. "I like being good for you," he says, rubbing his cheek against Coulson's jacket and the whole suit is gonna have to be dry-cleaned anyway, might as well make the most of it. 

"I'll remember you said that next time we're in the field," Coulson says, and reaches down to slide the tie from around his eyes. Clint blinks a few times, adjusting to the light. Coulson is smiling, a tug at the corners of his lips that practically counts as grinning for him. "How are you feeling?" he asks more seriously.

"Fucking amazing," Clint says. 

"Your language is appalling," Coulson replies, but he sounds more amused than anything.

"Feel better if you kissed me."

"Well, that I believe is something that I can manage," Coulson says and he manages to maneuver them both into a position to do just that. His lips are dry and warm and he lingers against Clint's mouth, tongue tasting his lips until Clint squirms against him and pulls him closer, opening his mouth for a real kiss.

They finally part, after false starts and much reluctance and Clint hums softly, cuddling up against him. He yawns, trying to stifle it against Coulson's neck. "Ngh, sorry."

Coulson just laughs softly. "It's fine. Go to sleep."

"Not letting you go anywhere," Clint mumbles, arm tightening around Coulson's body tightly.

"I wasn't planning on leaving," Coulson replies softly, and Clint can hear the smile in it as he drifts to sleep.


End file.
